


Where Angels Fear to Tread

by FireEye



Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Gen, Presumed Dead, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SR1. There are probably a thousand better plans than, "I'm gonna walk onto a boat to parlay with my enemy." She did it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Angels Fear to Tread

The _click_ - _click-click_ of footsteps had her reaching for her gun before she realized it was still in its holster, hanging along with her vest and out of reach. She folded her hands in front of her, twining her fingers together.

No one was going to attack her here in the Church. At least, no one who wouldn’t have to shoot their way in first, and there hadn’t been any shooting. Faith squinted up as the visitor rounded the corner, and her lips parted in a silent _oh_.

“What’re you doing here?” Her hands fell flat against the table, and she amended, “Not... that I don’t appreciate you coming around. _Jesus_.” Her fingers curled inward, and she studied the line of her knuckles. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Aisha slid into Gat’s chair, perpendicular from her own. Faith still hadn’t the heart to take Julius’ chair for herself, not even temporarily. “Besides, it looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“Oh, I only have no understanding whatsoever of what I’m doing or how I got here.” A tiny spark went off in the back of Faith’s consciousness, dawning struck and her desperate grin faltered. “Oh God. That’s what this is about isn’t it. Please tell me Johnny didn’t fuck it up. I fucking told him-...” Her back hit the back of her chair hard enough for the springs to bounce. “Do you need a place to stay until he pulls his head out of his ass, I’ve acquired like six beds across the city and I don’t use a damn one of them.” Aisha merely stared at her, a thin smile gracing her lips. Faith’s offering hand curled inward so that she rubbed at her eyes, “...as may well be evident by now.”

“Johnny’s been behaving himself – I’m thinking I may have you to thank for that.” Aisha’s eyes narrowed, with a graceful turn of the head that left her gaze sidelong. “Actually, I was wondering if you might want to come over for dinner tonight.”

“Um.” Staring over the back of her hand, Faith struggled with the answer. “Are you inviting Faith or Malaki?”

“I don’t follow you.”

“It’s just...” Shoulders hunching as she folded her arms on the table, the shadow of the boy who had risen from the street into Julius’ confidence shrugged. “Shanice... still doesn’t know that I’m... _not_... right?”

“I doubt it’ll be a problem. She’s staying over with some friends tonight.”

“You know what they say about the best laid schemes of mice and men.”

“Come on.” Aisha leaned forward herself, keeping level with Faith’s hunched decent. “I don’t know everything that’s been going on – I don’t think I want to. But you deserve a break.” Her eyebrows raised, and her smile split into a grin. “Dex is gonna be there.”

Faith’s breath left her in one long exhale, and she at once found herself inexplicably unable to draw in another.

“Which again begs the answer – Faith or Malaki?”

Aisha’s hand covered hers, fingers twining around the curve of her thumb in a gentle squeeze. “Sweetie, I don’t think he cares.”

“I’ll... I’ll think about it. If – I’m sorry, if I get a nap in, I’ll be a lot better company.”

Aisha squeezed her hand again, then stood, drifting towards the corner. “Let me know soon, okay?”

“Thanks... for, um, you know. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“I owe you a lot.”

Faith faintly mirrored her smile.

“Not really.”

*-*-*

_YOU HAVE A BIG MOUTH_

_AMONG OTHER THINGS_

_FUCK YOU_

_ANYTIME_

Faith steeled her nerves and hit _call_.

“Dinner?”

_“Hey, I didn’t tell her.”_

_“_ Oh, really? Then who the hell did?”

_“Believe it or not, sometimes you’re just that fucking obvious.”_

“The fuck am I supposed to do?”

_“How about you say ‘yes’? That way I don’t have to hear about it for the next month.”_

“And what would I be getting out of this, beside disastrous embarrassment?”

_“Free food? And you might get laid.”_

“Johnny, unlike some people around here, all I ever gotta do to get laid is hitch a ride uptown in a nice dress. And I’d even get paid for it.”

_“Yeah, well money isn’t everything y’know.”_

“...better’n some.”

_“So the fuck is your problem?”_

The brief moment of silence dragged on. On the other end of the line, she faintly heard him stretch as he waited for an answer.

“Why do I even talk to you?”

_“Because-”_

Ending the call, she let her arm roll limp off the pew, jerking it back moments later as the phone buzzed in her hand.

_WHAT DO I TELL AISHA?_

_WHATEVER_

_GREAT MY PLACE AT 9_

The strangled sound that emanated from her throat was half laughter, half groan.

_YOU ARE SUCH A PRICK_

_GOES WITHOUT SAYING_

There was blurred movement beyond the periphery of the phone’s display, and, moving it aside, she found Dex staring down at her.

“What’ve you got for me?”

Hauling herself up into the sitting position, she ran her fingers through her hair. Dex climbed over the back of the pew, sliding into the seat beside her.

“Not much.” He flipped through the notepad for show, flipping it closed again. “The way Julius has all this set up is pretty damn efficient; I can keep most of it covered. All we have to do is keep it in motion until we can find him.”

“And do we have _any_ leads on that?”

Before he could answer, the cellphone buzzed on the scuffed wood between them. Faith dutifully ignored it; Dex glanced down.

“You... want to check that?”

“Not really.”

Contrary to what she might have _wanted_ , the cellphone rang. Faith’s shoulders slumped as she grabbed the thing and hit the _call_ button.

“Listen, jackass-...”

The snarl melted into an expression of shock.

“Yeah, sure,” she trilled, voice hitting a higher pitch than her normal register. “I’ll see if I can find him, somewhere, around here, in the... this building, that we’re in. One second, please.”

She covered the transmitter with her thumb. Sinking back against the pew, she lolled her head to meet Dex’ questioning gaze.

“It’s the fuckin’ mayor.”

Faith breathed in, summoning the persona she’d build over the months she’d run with the Saints. Before she could answer the call, the muffled tremors that shook Dex’ shoulders bubbled over into a full snicker. Biting back a wry smile, she swatted his shoulder.

*-*-*

The promenade was comfortably warm under the lingering afternoon sunlight, despite the cool breeze rolling in off the water. Fixated on the landing to the municipal docks, Dex didn’t discern her approach amidst the rest of the crowd until she set the waxed paper cup on the rim of the fountain beside his hand. He glanced up, not once but twice.

“Anything?” Faith nodded to the landing, not that there was any question to what she was asking.

“Nothing new since you got lost crossing the street.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t you know – I couldn’t find a phone booth.” Shrugging, she popped the cover from her own cup. “And I don’t whip off my clothes for total strangers unless I am properly compensated for it. The Stripper’s Union is very strict on that kind of thing; they come around and break your legs.”

Dex nearly choked on his first sip of coffee. “...strippers have a union?”

“In Stilwater?” Faith snorted. “Don’t I fuckin’ wish.”

After pulling a long, breathless swallow from the cup, she dropped heavily to the concrete next to him, letting her backpack down between her feet. Balancing the coffee in one hand, she unzipped the backpack with the other and rummaged under her clothes until she found Sharp’s revolver, which she placed across her lap, and the small ammunition box that accompanied it. She set her cup aside to first load the weapon, then the speedloader.

“How many bodyguards do you think he’ll have?”

Twelve shots total. _If_ she got to reload. Or draw the gun.

“If he’s _expecting_ Malaki? He might actually have the brains to be prepared.”

“Yeah...” Faith downed another swig of coffee before standing. She slipped the gun into her belt, pulling her vest down over it; it wasn’t the epitome of a quick draw, but it was well enough concealed. The loader went into her pants pocket, joining her brass knuckles.

“You know I don’t like this,” Dex stood as Faith zipped up her backpack, nudging it against the fountain with her boot. “Maybe you should send someone else. That way, if it _is_ a trap, we don’t lose both you _and_ Julius to these fuckers.”

“As flattered as I am by your inflation of my presumed importance, I’m not really cut out to be the leader of a citywide criminal empire, Dex.”

“Hey, you’ve done alright so far.” He scoffed. “More than alright, for a beginner.”

“Mostly on pure dumb luck; how long do you think that’ll last? The sooner we have Julius back, the safer we’ll all be.” Her eyes were on the landing as she stretched, testing the limits of her shoulders. She sighed deeply and tugged at the hem of her vest.

“How do I look?”

“...fastidious.”

“I am meeting the mayor.”

Squaring her towards him, Dex unfastened the top button, and ruffled the vest by its shoulders.

“Soon-to-be mayor- _elect_ ,” he corrected, and subsequently relented, “Barring an act of God. To which I am not entirely opposed to lending a helping hand at this point.”

Faith smiled wryly, shaking her head. “Any other advice you got for me?”

“Yeah.” Dex held up his hand, which she clasped loosely. “Don’t fuck this up; get Julius and get out.”

They lingered for a moment, regarding one another coolly.

“Oh, fuck it,” Faith breathed.

Clasping her other hand around his neck, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips. With a sigh of resignation, she stepped towards the grass, but his grip tightened around her hand, and Dex pulled her back. Curling an arm around her shoulders, he crushed his mouth against hers, with her fingers found the collar of his jacket.

They lingered for a moment longer, hands still tangled together between them.

Faith patted his shoulder, stepping away, and Dex held on to her fingers until distance parted them, and only then, hunching her shoulders, did she finally start across the promenade.

“Kai,” Dex called after her.

Faith twirled back, raising her chin.

“You’re gonna be cutting it close if you want to make it back in time for Aisha’s dinner thing.” He flashed a smile. “Don’t get lost.”

Chewing her lip, Faith gave a noncommittal bounce of her head. She pulled out her cellphone as she crossed the grass; it was back in her pocket by the time she reached the landing where, at the top of the stairs, she once again adjusted her vest and vanished down from view.

Dex waited fifteen minutes at the fountain before chancing moving up to the balustrade, hauling Faith’s backpack behind him. Settling in atop the wall, he reclined against the column to watch and wait as the yacht drift off into the water against a waning sunset.

*-*-*

Torn, momentarily, from the pounding on the door, Johnny grabbed the cellphone as it buzzed across the coffee table. Scrubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand, he blinked and pulled the door inward.

It took him a beat longer to parse what he was seeing.

“Congratulations,” he said, sliding his pistol into his belt. “I have no idea what time it is, but you just invented a whole new meaning to _fashionably late_.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Dex ducked his head as he moved straight for the couch and dug around for the television remote. “There’s something going down right now that you need to see.”

Johnny squinted at Troy, who lingered in the hallway, shuffling his feet. “Would you like to come inside?”

Troy bolted, sliding past Dex to the far side of the coffee table. Closing the door after them, Johnny followed at a more leisurely pace. Movement in the corner of his eye betrayed Aisha’s presence in the bedroom doorway. He gestured to her, but she hung back, arms crossed, and shook her head, opting instead to peer around the doorframe at the commotion that had invaded their living room. Shrugging to that, he checked the message on his phone.

_TIED UP WITH BUSINESS BE THERE WHEN I CAN_

_W-H-E-R-E_

_T-H-E_

Dex had turned the television on and muted the volume, to what appeared to be helicopter footage of a smoldering wreck floating on the water. Johnny split his attention between that and composing a response to Faith’s message. “The fuck am I even looking at?”

_F-U-C-K_

_A-R-E_

“Julius...” Troy explained, “was supposed to be on that boat.”

_Y_

“Yeah, and Malaki _was_ on that boat,” Dex said. “It was supposed to be-...”

Aisha padded out, circling the room wide. Her already widening eyes grew wider as she beheld the newsreel, and her hands flew to her mouth. She glanced at each of the men in turn, but only Dex met her eye, and only for a moment. Johnny rushed for the door. He grabbed his jacket from the wall, his boots from the floor, and was gone, leaving the door wide open.

“Hey, where are you...? _Fuck_. Troy.”

Troy tore his eyes from the television. “What?”

“Go after him.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Maybe keep him from rushing off and doing something stupid?”

“Oh, you really think I can stop him?”

Dex clenched his teeth. “It’s not a request – get on it.”

Troy lingered a moment longer, before doing as he was told. Dex stared after him, then looked to Aisha. She sank down on the couch, gaze fixed on the wreckage, and he knelt down on the cushion beside her to squeeze her shoulder.

“Aisha, it’s gonna...” The words sounded hollow, but they were all he had to offer. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Aisha only shook her head, _no_.

*-*-*

The waterfront was a bog of activity. Rescue workers ran and darted along the water’s edge, while men and women in uniform paced back and forth along the promenade itself, forming a buffer that kept everyone else crowded on the sidewalk behind swiftly erected wooden barriers and the rail platform above.

There was no better place to hide than in plain sight.

“We should’ve blown up City Hall.” Johnny said. Whatever he might have felt was buried beneath an understated calm. “You know what, fuck this attrition shit - we should still blow up City Hall.”

Dex opened his mouth to answer, then snapped it closed and pressed his hand against his eyes.

“I know I’ve been awake too long,” he said, “because that’s starting to sound like a good idea.”

They loitered under the train platform, near the steel support. Troy had managed to sneak in far closer, until getting into an argument with an officer who first attempted to shoo him away from the upper balustrade, then manhandled him several paces back towards the crowd line. He slunk back before another officer, the one patrolling nearest their corner could intercept him; though she seemed content with his retreat, she shadowed his escape right up until he had reached the near side of the emergency barricade and tossed a cautious glance back in his direction while she returned to a more languid pacing of her quarter.

“Look, there doesn’t seem to be much we can do standing around here. Why don’t you guys go home. I’ll get some of our boys down here to keep an eye on things.” Patting down his pockets for a cigarette, he shook his head and scoffed, almost to himself, “That’s assuming there’s even anything to keep an eye on.”

“He’s right.” Dex sighed, but shrugged regardless. “It’s not like we’ve never been hit hard before. We’ll all feel better once we get some distance. Let’s go.”

He reached for the sleeve of Johnny’s jacket, only to be elbowed back. Johnny rounded on him, and Dex took an instinctive step back.

“Who died and left you in charge?”

Almost unwittingly, Dex’ gaze was drawn to the waterfront. He looked up a moment later, eyebrows raised.

“No one,” he breathed at last. “But we did take my car, so unless you want to walk your ass home...” He gestured, _after you_. “Take it or leave it.”

For a long moment, Johnny’s judgment seemed to hang in the balance; then the tension in his shoulders subsided, and he turned into the crowd. The few hapless individuals who didn’t get out of the way fast enough found themselves shoved bodily aside and the rest of wisely parted before him, while Dex took advantage of his wake.

 

Pacing small circles, Troy burned down half his cigarette until he was certain they had gone, then flicked the remainder to the damp grass. Darting back across the promenade, he flashed his badge at the woman who immediately moved to intercept him and again at the man closer to the drop-off. The latter Troy relieved of his flashlight, before flying down the stairs.

Inching between the diving crew and paramedics, he made his way to the east end of the dock. Grabbing the rope strung between the bollards and twisting it around his arm, he stretched down over the water to hook his fingers under the man’s collar.

The rescue came with no time to spare, as from the displacement, the tuxedoed corpse Malaki had been clinging to began to sink. Hauling him up out of the water, Troy whistled for the attention of the paramedics before turning on the flashlight.

The pulse that met his fingertips was weak, and the shallow, rattling wheeze didn’t bode well. But alive was alive.

Troy stood, sweeping the light back and forth over the extent of the damage.

“You’re a stubborn piece of work, I’ll give you that,” he appraised. “For what good it’ll do you from here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may revisit this fic in the future to touch it up, but for now I'm under a deadline. So I apologize if it's not quite what it could be. This was somewhat inspired by my trying to make sense of the SR1 ending... and tied together rather specifically by Aisha staring at her watch combined with the "Can't it wait until dinner" line from the prologue of SR2. As in, "You're late, dumbass." It is entirely possible that I am missing context.
> 
> If you're of a mind to comment, please keep in mind that as of the publishing of this fic I have thus far only played SR1 and the prologue of SR2. I have no idea where it goes from there and would prefer to remain unspoiled (and have managed to dodge pretty much everything so far.) :)


End file.
